


The Ninth Night

by Feena_c



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Feels, Gen, Memory Wipe, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 21:25:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15082043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feena_c/pseuds/Feena_c
Summary: Connor doesn't remember anything.  Hank visits, not sure what he hopes will happen.





	The Ninth Night

Hank sat in the building’s lounge, staring blankly ahead with a cold coffee on the little table ahead of him.  He didn’t know why the hell he was here again. Well, he did, but he wished he could make himself stop coming. It was like pulling stitches out of a wound every damn time he came in. 

9:00 pm.  Like clockwork, Connor appeared.  No, not Connor. Just a shell. Just some plastic that had once housed his friend.  No, his family. Connor had become more than just a friend, or even a trusted partner, before everything had gone wrong.  “Software instability”, he’d called it. “Becoming a damn person”, Hank had thought. He hadn’t cared that his assistant sent from Cyberlife was becoming a deviant, by the time he realized that’s what was happening.  He’d been glad. He’d grown attached to the fuckin’, by the book little piece a shit. He hadn’t realized just how attached until Connor didn’t come in to work one morning. Yea, Hank had been up and at work waiting for him.  Thought it’d be a nice little surprise, him not having to scour the city for him or come to his house and get him up and drag into the office. But that day--that day… it was Connor who didn’t appear. Hank had waited, no idea what else to do.  He had no way to contact him. He never came in. 

Hank got in touch with Cyberlife the next morning, after a sleepless night worrying the kid had done something stupid with his newfound freedom; tried to eat something he couldn’t process, tried jumping another train, who knows.  He hadn’t. He hadn’t done anything. Cyberlife just told him the android model had been “recalled” due to “unrectifiable errors in its programming”. Bullshit. They’d fucking murdered him, that’s what they’d done. Hank had been leaning towards supporting the androids’ freedom marches before, but he’d been all in since.  They were fucking people, more so than the human monsters at Cyberlife who’d created them and apparently could heartlessly kill them again without a thought. 

That had been over two months ago.  Then, a week ago the strangest thing happened.  He saw Connor. No, not Connor. Another Connor?  Were there others? Connor had said something about another model taking his place if he was “destroyed” early on in their partnership.  But another model--it would be the same wouldn’t it? An android built to investigate and hunt deviants. This one wasn’t. It was a cleaner at a fucking department store in the downtown.  Hank had only stumbled into it by accident, when he’d gone to a freedom march. At first Hank had been completely horrified to find another… version? If that was what he should call it, of his friend.  He’d asked the cashier at the lounge about it; another android. He’d informed him the model was a second-hand, repurposed model. Hence no model ID on its clothes, just a building service number, it wasn’t any longer part of a specific line.  Cyberlife didn’t waste anything, apparently. 

Was it his Connor, then?  Had they… Reprogrammed him, or whatever they did, and then just turned around and sold him at discount?  It made Hank’s stomach churn. He hated to think this was his Connor, no longer a person, just back to being a mindless machine.  Basically a roomba with legs, blankly cleaning floors and windows which already sparkled from the last time he’d done it. 

It hurt to see him, to think it might be his Connor.  But at the same time, Hank couldn’t stop coming back to watch.  Every night for the last week, he’d come back, order a coffee he’d barely touch and sit in the lounge.  9:00 pm every night, Connor would appear from a service door and start cleaning in the area. Always the same routine, just the same way.  Like a machine, designed to do a task. Hank felt something in his throat and looked down at the table. Why did he keep coming? It fucking hurt… but he couldn’t stop.  He couldn’t help but want to see him, at least  _ see _ him.  Hank pulled out a coin from his pocket.  Not Connor’s; but it was the same year. Hank stared at it, the lump not leaving his throat as he began rolling it in his fingers.

 

\----

 

052 crouched, rubbing carefully but firmly at handprints on the low section of the window front.  Human children seemed attracted to the glass, always getting fingerprints and smudges all over it.  He always made sure to get each and every one of them scrubbed off each night, even though he knew there’d be more tomorrow.  Rising, he turned and stepped a bit further down the row of windows. 

There.  Again. That man.  He felt a slight buzz somewhere in the back of his head before he turned and crouched, continuing cleaning.  That man had been there every night for the last 8 days. Today was the 9th day. He remembered the odd, buzzing, staticky sensation he’d had the first time he’d seen him.  Why? Maybe because the man had run up and shaken him, talking nonsensically? After two days he thought maybe there was something wrong with him; maybe his programming was faulty? Was the man making him nervous? He shouldn’t be able to be nervous.  But then, he’d seen lots of reports in the breakroom while cleaning of humans attacking androids. Maybe this human was looking for a target? The human seemed interested in him; he’d watch him clean with such an odd look. 

By the 4th night, he’d changed his mind.  The man didn’t make him nervous. He had no idea why, but he’d been… glad?  Glad to see him when he’d stepped out on the 4th night into the lobby. The man had a bottle of something, a beer, with him on the table that night.  There again, a buzzing sensation in the back of his head. He’d seen a bottle like that before, when? Cleaning? Had he put one in the trash at some point?  That didn’t seem right. 

On the 6th night the man had brought a dog with him.  The buzz again, then he had the strangest sensation yet.  Like he’d seen that dog before, with that man. But he’d never brought in a dog before?  He’d spent the rest of the night scrutinizing that feeling of familiarity, finding something like nerves again as he tried to make sense of the… memory?  Of that dog, and that man...in trouble? Something to do with the bottles? Bottles? More than one kind. He… remembered that man with more than one kind of bottle.  Had he come in with something else to the store?

052 stood, moving down the windows, giving the man another glance as he did so.  He stopped. Tilted his head as something buzzed, loudly, in the back of his head.  The man was flipping a coin. 

 

\----

 

Hank let out a careful breath.  No good breaking down in the middle of this place.  There weren’t many people around--with all the violence lately being out past dark wasn’t popular, but still.  He didn’t want to start fucking crying in a store lounge. He stilled the coin and then suddenly became aware of someone standing close to him, he glanced up.  It was Connor. 

He was staring at his hands; at the coin.  He slowly turned his eyes on Hank, staring at him with… something.  That look wasn’t blank. Confusion? Frustration?

“Connor?” 

The android tilted it’s head, LED flashing yellow the whole time.  “...My… designation is 052,” he said, just like the first day when Hank had seen him and grabbed him by the shoulders, yelling his name.  No… not just like the first time. He’d hesitated, as if unsure. 

Hank looked away, then looked back after a moment.  It hurt to interact with this not-Connor, but looking at him Hank couldn’t help but feel… hope?  For what? He smiled minimally. 

“Wanna try?”  Hank held out the coin. 

Connor’s whole head jerked sideways just a touch, eyes blinking unnaturally.  Hank was startled, concern building. Was something wrong with him?

“I… yes,”  Connor said, frowning and putting his hand out.  Hank gave him a once over. He was definitely acting strange, but that was a hellava lot better than the blank stares of the last week.  Hank stood and dropped the coin into his hand. 

Connor stared it for several seconds, LED still flashing.  Then suddenly he dropped the bottle of cleaner he’d been holding in his other hand and started flipping the coin, one hand to the other.  He did five exchanges before suddenly gasping and stepping back, as if the coin had burned him, LED flashing red as the coin dropped and clinked against the tiled floor. 

“Connor?”  Hank stepped forward, worriedly raising one hand to hold Connor's arm.  Connor looked up at him, machine body simulating quick, shallow breaths.  He looked scared. “Connor, are you okay? What’s wrong, son?” It slipped out.  

“...I--my name… is--Connor.”

Hank stood still, wide eyed.  

“... Hank?”  It came out slightly stilted.  

Hank’s mouth dropped open slightly.  “Connor? Connor?!” He grabbed the android’s shoulders, just like he had the first night he’d seen him here.

A couple tears slipped down Connor’s cheeks, LED flashing yellow again as he smiled up at the man.  

“It’s me, Hank.  I--it’s me!” He closed his eyes, leaning forward and reaching out.  Hank let him come, throwing his arms around his shoulders, still in shock.  

“Connor you--you remember?”

“Yes, Hank.  I remember.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Kara chapter with memory loss.


End file.
